Pages

About Me

My (nick)name is Moz and this blog was originally about my travails, tribulations and (occasional) small successes while writing my Honours thesis and fighting the demons of my mental illness. Said thesis was nicknamed Frankie and this is my first blog. These days I am working on my Masters thesis, and still trying to string words together that make some sense.
My financial vices include a good cup of coffee, live music, and buying real newspapers so I can do the crossword. Unsurprisingly I love books, and am a bit obsessed with writing the perfect letter and making an even more perfect mix CD. I earn part of my living as a wedding singer in Sydney, Australia, but long term I hope to research, write and teach as an academic, and travel further than interstate. David Bowie once referred to me as 'the quintessential girl from Ipanema' - it briefly made my mother proud.

Looking Forward, Looking Back

One of my dirty little secrets is that I love Christmas,
probably because it always seems to be a time for looking back and reflecting. (For
someone who reflects far too much and is in danger of having a crooked neck for
looking over her shoulder too much, this isn’t always a good thing.) Of course, this time
for reflection on what is past comes immediately before New Years, which is the
king of all dates for looking forward and being hopeful – something I don’t do
well.

Christmas is the holiday of memory. We spend the holiday
period comparing our wins and failures to what has come before, whether it’s the
successes of our academic year, or, as in my beloved sister’s case, that she
managed to knock over all her Christmas shopping in one afternoon and beat her
personal best from last year. We reminisce about Christmases past with those we
love, and every now and again we adjust as someone we love is taken from us and
the world as we know it shifts. There are the holidays in which there are young
children once again, only this time they belong to us rather
than our parents. There are the Christmases we spend apart from those we love,
and the Christmases we spend in solitude, or perhaps only with a significant
other. We travel far, we stay close to home, but ultimately we compare one
Christmas with all the others we remember. Some of us try to recapture a sense
of child like joy, and others just drink to get through it. But I’m willing to
bet that at some point during the lead up to the big day, if not the day
itself, you find yourself comparing the holiday to one that has come before and
working out what that means to you.

I spent most of my recent trip to Melbourne anxiously
checking my phone for the e-mail telling me what my thesis mark was. It was in
a smelly ladies’ toilet that it finally arrived on my final afternoon of the
trip. One of my other dirty little secrets is that my Honours result ended up
being a lot lower than it should have been. It’s a secret that’s hard for me to
admit.

But during this time of reflection, I try and acknowledge
that things could have been a lot worse. Despite my illness being a greedy bastard
for 10 of the last 12 months, I managed to finish Honours. I did more than well
enough for acceptance to the advanced Masters program I want to study next year
(I’m still waiting on this news, one way or the other). I have sung in
beautiful venues and heard my voice ring out. I spoke at an academic conference
and evoked an enthusiastic question time. I travelled for pleasure and for
business on my own and managed not to get lost more than half a dozen times. I
turned 30 in a room filled with my closest friends, and was touched by the love
and compassion they show me every day. I stood in rooms filled with people as
amazing artists and bands played and made me feel alive.

I am still alive. As bad as it got (and it got very, very
bad) I am still here and still trying. I still have plans to make and things to
look forward to, and I want to stick around for those.

This is my 31st Christmas, and I’m kind of
excited about it (although maybe that’s because I don’t have to cook….). I hope
the same for you and those you love, and I thank you for continuing to read
this little blog of mine. Frankie is written and dispensed with, but I’m going
to be a student for some time yet and I hope you’ll stick with me for that. May
your tomorrows be bright and sparkly, friends.